Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Schwartz's vs Barfapalooza

So I wasn't really planning on posting about how the bubonic plague struck our house this weekend but then Sarah barfed on me this morning and I did one of those mom things that I never thought I would.  First when she started coughing, I cupped my hand under her prepared to catch what might come up.  Then when the fountain of barf broke forth at what can only be described as the geyser rate of Old Faithful I took one for the team and pulled her onto my lap so she wouldn't get it on the new couch.  I know I wrote once before about being covered in nast when she threw up on me as a baby, but this time it was the entire contents of her 8 ounce bottle that splattered all over her, me, and my blanket.  It was pretty darn foul.  Luckily, (really, can I say luckily in a post about barfing), the barfing wasn't sick induced.  She was trying to cough up some snot and well, got more than we both bargained for.

So, as I was deciding to write about the flu bug that came to visit I was thinking it's funny the ways you can tell someone is really sick or not feeling well.  Chris knows that I really don't feel good if I concede to take any type of liquid meds without fighting.  And he knows to back up and put me in quarantine if I throw up.  I know Chris isn't feeling well if he naps.

It's been 4 years since I last kindled my relationship with Treva (the name I loving gave the toilet the time before last when I was sick and thought I was going to die).  And having to spend time hugging my porcelain friend made me realize that when people ask me if I miss teaching in one respect I can say yes.  I miss those nasty, dirty, snot nosed, non hand washing, disgusting children who brought every possible funk to school, touched everything on my desk, and sneezed on all their papers.  Those kids gave me the best possible kidmunity that exists.  During my almost 3 years of teaching I only ever took 1 sick day and that was when I had food poisoning (which is HORRIBLE) from a baked potato.  Now that I don't have those kids giving me their germs I've realized I'm at risk for getting the crud and I don't like it!

So after a few hours of trying to talk myself out of throwing up, something I'm normally very good at, it was over and I was kneeling before the porcelain throne.  I slept most of the day.  Monday I was pretty weak but got up because I had heard Sarah crying for 30 minutes completely unconsolable.  I came out and she threw her arms up and I caved and put her on my lap, she stopped crying immediately.  Then I looked at Chris, and he looked pale.  Crap!  Chris was coming down with it too, Sarah only wants me, and I'm barely able to pick her up between running to the restroom.  We did the only thing that we could do; we called Ma Schwartz.  I have never been more grateful that they live in town and she's retired.  I really don't know what we would have done without her.  She was at our house in an hour to scoop up Sarah and take her to her plague free home.  Chris and I spent the rest of the day take turns laying on the couch and running to see Treva.  By 7ish Monday evening I felt better and did the thing that sucks about being sick almost as much as throwing up--I had to start cleaning the sick out of the house.  Chris was still incapacitated until Tuesday.

I know it's wishful thinking, but man, I really hope that this is the last time we all get sick.  Mom's don't have time to be sick and I don't know what was worse, hearing Sarah cry and knowing it was because she wanted me, or listening to her giggle with Chris and not being able to get up and see what was so funny.

Oh, and here's our new couch that arrived a couple weeks ago.  You'd take a barf bath too to save your first ever new couch.